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<title>Daniel Howell &amp; the Olympians: The Son of Darkness by killmycharacters1by1</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537363">Daniel Howell &amp; the Olympians: The Son of Darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmycharacters1by1/pseuds/killmycharacters1by1'>killmycharacters1by1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dan and Phil and the Olympians [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Multi, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:14:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmycharacters1by1/pseuds/killmycharacters1by1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel Howell is a twelve-year-old disaster. He has ADHD, dyslexia, is a pathological trouble magnet, and on top of all that, he sees ghosts. He's tried medication after medication, been kicked out of school after school, and is close to giving up. And worse, the gods and monsters of Ancient Greece have begun to walk right out of the books and into his life. And he doesn't have a great standing with most of them. Demigods have begun to disappear, and someone close to Dan is being suspected.<br/>Dan must find a way to clear his name - and his father's - before it is too late. He must stop a war from sparking among the gods, and he doesn't have much time. Facing a treacherous journey, it is up to Dan and his allies to save the universe. Literally. Dan's world has unravelled, and he has no choice but to save the new one he's been thrown into.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dan and Phil and the Olympians [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Daniel Howell &amp; the Olympians: The Son of Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i have been working on this fic for a WHILE. firstly, i'd like to say thank you to ghgc on twitter for coming up with this and for proofreading and helping me with all of my ideas. </p><p>IMPORTANT NOTES:<br/>i have tried my best to stay true to the writing style of this book. i know that first-person can be annoying sometimes, but it's the story! i probably won't have an upload schedule as it's a bit difficult for me to exactly replicate the writing style. the chapters will be a bit shorter than those of the book, but they'll still be long! this one is around 2000 words. </p><p>and finally, thank you for reading! this fic is my child and i'm so excited to explore this story. let's get going!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.<br/>You've heard this story before. You know how it goes. Time and time again, you've been told to run far away from all of this. And yet you've ignored it. Overlooked the warnings of danger for what, a good story? <br/>Like I said, you've heard this story before. Why come back to it? You could live a regular life. Have a chance at being ordinary. <br/>But, of course, you don't. I'd say that I don't understand you, but I do. I know what wanting to escape from the world around you feels like. I'm practically best friends with it. <br/>If fiction is your escape, so be it. But if this isn't fiction to you, close this. Shut your laptop. Ignore everything I said. It's safer that way. I'm doing this for <em>you</em>. I don't want you to suffer the same way I did. <br/>Now, for those of you with a death wish, keep reading.</p><p>My name is Daniel Howell. I'm thirteen years old. And yesterday, I found out my father is the god of death.<br/>Well, not yesterday. A year ago, to be exact. Time flies when you're running for your life.<br/>I used to be a student at the Reed School for the Troubled, a boarding school in New York. <br/>So yeah, troubled kid and all that. But I'm probably a different kind of "troubled" than what you're thinking. I've made many - and I mean <em>many</em> - mistakes in my life. But one of the biggest is probably telling another human being about what I saw. All that got me was anti-psychosis medication and four different psychiatrists at once. <br/><em>But Dan,</em> you may be asking, <em>why would a parent do that to their child? What you saw couldn't have been that bad.</em><br/>On the contrary, dear readers! Here's the CliffsNotes. My entire life, I've seen ghosts. <br/>Now, depending on who you are, you're either squealing with delight or staring at those words in horror. You might not believe me, but I'm telling the complete truth here. I've always seen things that others haven't. And obviously, I was labelled as crazy. Bounced around from school to school, getting a different treatment every time. At one school, we didn't do any work. It was just sitting around and talking about our feelings. Another was "wilderness counselling." Pretty much a boot camp. And at another, I even had to wear a straitjacket as punishment for acting out. My mom had a field day with that one. It was one of the few times she didn't treat me like absolute garbage. <br/>Now, I loved my mom. She's my mom, after all. But when I started getting older, I began to realize just how much she loathed me. I stopped asking about my father at a young age at around the fiftieth screaming match that happened after I did. I just knew one thing - she hated him, and she hated me. <br/>She may have been poison, but my mother cut a striking figure. Her shiny brown hair fell in perfect waves, framing her delicate, pale face. She seemed to always be shrouded in black as if she were mourning someone. Probably her own freedom. My mother had given birth to me when she was 29. But she had never intended to have kids. I was a representation of the shackles she wore. I was a ball and chain on her ankle, keeping her rooted to one spot. <br/>Although I was a symbol of everything she hated, she still attempted to mother me. She fed me, clothed me, kept a roof over my head, and paid for my psychiatric treatments. And in return, I kept quiet. I didn't ask about my father, accepted the treatment she paid for and kept my head down. Or at least tried to. But it's difficult to fly under a ghost’s radar when you <em>are</em> the radar. I seemed to attract trouble wherever I went. </p><p>I couldn't stay in a school for longer than a year. There was always something to drive me out of it. And as you probably know, field trips were my weakness. <br/>At my school for fourth grade, I accidentally slammed into my teacher on the subway and made him drop a few of our Broadway tickets into the gap. Guess who sat out of the play? And at my school for fifth grade, we went to Ellis Island. <em>Someone</em> tripped and fell onto the luggage exhibit. That didn't go over well with the staff there - or my teachers. You know what I'm saying here. Field trips: not my strong suit. <br/>So what exactly happened here that was so bad? In a nutshell, I almost raised the dead. <br/>For my sixth-grade disaster, we went to the East Coast Memorial in Battery Park. The entire trip was horrible. I sat on the bus next to my friend Rowan, watching them be pelted with paper airplanes. <br/>Rowan was... strange. They seemed to be older than the rest of us but behaved like a fourth-grader. They were most likely held back a few times, but they were absurdly intelligent. And they had some sort of problem with their legs. We would always sit together during P.E., them being excused for the rest of their life and me being in trouble. They just didn't make sense. <br/>"I swear-" I started to get up from my seat. <br/>"Dan, don't do anything!" they whispered loudly, grabbing my arm. Rowan always tried to keep me from getting in more trouble. <br/>I rolled my eyes. "Why do you let them treat you like that? Why do you put up with it?" <br/>They shrugged and looked at me with apathy. "I just don't care."</p><p>The East Coast Memorial is a World War II cemetery, so we were learning about - you guessed it - World War II. It was the single dullest thing I had ever experienced. My history teacher, Mrs. Silver, occasionally snapped at kids to keep quiet as the guide went on about battles and casualties. I could have used his voice as a white noise machine. <br/>While the guide was lecturing us about the Battle of Who-Knows-Where, I was lost in confusion. I stared intensely at the grave closest to me, that of Demetrius Murphy. <br/>This gravestone confused me. There was a symbol below the name that looked like a half-moon attached to an upside-down cross. The description seemed to be in a language I could understand, which should have been an immediate red flag. It's a bit hard to read things when you're dyslexic. <br/>The description read <em>May he who dies, die with honour. Under the hand of Zeus, he will reach Elysium.</em><br/>I stared at the grave in confusion. This was clearly not a typical headstone. I quietly motioned to Rowan about it, but it was too late. My teacher had seen me staring.<br/>She set her eyes on me. "Daniel, I do hope you're paying attention," My eyes widened from fear as she spoke. Something about Mrs. Silver had always seemed off, and I tried my best to not provoke her. <br/>"What can you tell us about-" she was interrupted by a rumbling noise. The ground began to shake with a booming fury. Everyone except for me was knocked over by the trembling earth. <br/>I abruptly screamed, and the shaking ceased. The smoke cleared for my class to see me as the only person standing and the grave of Demetrius Murphy destroyed. It was in pieces on the ground. The guide screamed. <br/>"That was authentic!" he said, brushing dirt off of himself and beginning to hyperventilate. "It was the oldest gravestone in this section!" <br/>"You can't possibly blame me for this!" I yelled, a bit louder than I intended to. <br/>My teacher bore her eyes into me. "Oh, but I <em>will.</em>"</p><p>While the rest of the group ate lunch on the sunny grass, I sat in the mausoleum with Mrs. Silver. As I said, something about her had always seemed off. <br/>Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun. She had lips that were the colour of blood and ridiculously sharp nails to match. She was, no doubt, intimidating. <br/>She smiled coldly at me. Her teeth looked like daggers. <br/>"Daniel, I am aware that you have had trouble at schools in the past. I am trying to help you, but you make it so difficult."<br/>I began to protest but quickly decided otherwise. "Mrs. Silver, I'm telling you..." I trailed off. <br/>"Yes, Daniel?" She tilted her head. <br/>Reluctantly, I continued. "I wasn't the cause of that earthquake. How could I be? I'm twelve years old!" <br/>She grabbed my arm. Her nails dug into my skin. "Are you sure of that, <em>son of Hades?</em>" She spat out the last three words. Suddenly, her form changed. Her teeth somehow grew even sharper as her eyes turned red. Her skin became whiter than a blanket of snow, and her knife-like nails plunged into my forearm and drew blood. <br/>I shrieked, but she quickly quieted me with her hand. "Silence, boy!" I ripped my arm from her grasp and began to run away. <br/>I stepped through the doorway of the mausoleum. "Daniel!" A sweet voice called my name. <br/>I turned around to see another person. She seemed to be a regular human. But her eyes flashed red, and I knew. I had nowhere else to run inside the marble building, and the monster was quickly approaching. I suddenly realized what she was. <br/>"You're a vampire!" I exclaimed in surprise. <br/>Mrs. Silver - or whatever she was - snarled. "No, boy! Vampires were inspired by <em>me</em>. I am an <em>empousa</em>, servant of Hecate! And I feed on young men just like you." I recoiled in horror. <br/>"DAN!" I heard a familiar voice yell my name. It was Rowan. "TAKE THIS!" They threw a strange object in my direction. It flew through the air, falling right into my hands. It had somehow grown into two small knives. I wracked my brain for what they were. Daggers! <br/>The blades felt cold on my skin. They were made of some sort of black metal and were almost moulded to fit my hands. But I had no time to appreciate the craftsmanship. I ran forwards and plunged the blades into Lady Dracula's torso. She emitted a bloodcurdling scream and turned into yellow dust. </p><p>When the smoke cleared, I was alone. Rowan had disappeared, leaving me with only a miniature charm in my hands. Carefully, I examined it. It was a metal rottweiler, snarling viciously. It looked to be ordinary - except for the fact that it had three heads. <br/>I pulled my knowledge of Greek mythology from the depths of my mind and remembered the dog's name. Cerberus. The guardian of the underworld and Hades' favourite pet. <br/>That reminded me of something Mrs. Silver had said. She had called me "Son of Hades." <br/><em>Clink!</em> My thinking was interrupted by an object flying towards me. It was a black cord with a magnet on the bottom. The string raced to me and attached itself to the charm with a magnetic clink. <br/>"A necklace," I mused to myself. "Huh." <br/>I shrugged and fastened it around my neck. Slipping it under my shirt, I walked out of the mausoleum. My class was waiting at the school buses, looking impatient. <br/>"Dan!" Rowan ran towards me. "We've been waiting for you! Where have you been?" <br/>I was confused. "The.... the mausoleum?" I looked at Rowan and tried to figure out what game they were playing. "I was in there with Mrs. Silver."<br/>They chuckled. "You must be messing with me again. Where did Mrs. Gulliver go?" <br/>I stared at them. I had no idea what Rowan was talking about. "Rowan, come on. What's going on?" <br/>They began to answer but stopped and waved to someone behind me. I turned around to see a woman who looked nothing like Mrs. Silver. She had on a maroon dress shirt and a black skirt, her high heels clicking on the marble steps of the mausoleum. <br/>"Mrs. Gulliver!" our other teacher called. "Where have you been?" <br/>She laughed and looked directly at me. "Oh, I was just having lunch with Daniel here! We had such a pleasant conversation. I do hope he's learned his lesson?" <br/>I decided to nod and go along with it. "Oh, yes, I have." Rowan gave me a thumbs-up. <br/>"I trust that it won't happen again. Now, children, to the buses! We have a school to get back to."<br/>Rowan rambled for the entire bus ride back to school. "Where's Mrs. Silver?" I finally cut in, wanting a direct answer. <br/>They looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Dan, are you alright?" They went to feel my forehead for a fever, clearly thinking I was hallucinating. <br/>"Yes, I'm fine! I just want to know what happened to Mrs. Silver, who Mrs. Gulliver is, and what the charm you gave to me actually is!" <br/>Rowan's expression grew worried. "Dan, I didn't give you anything. And there is no Mrs. Silver at this school. What's wrong with you?"</p>
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